Back to the Marauder's Era
by CoconutBanana
Summary: It seems like a dream-come-true when fanfiction-obsessed Chloe gets transported back to the marauder's era. However, she soon finds out that she is actually in the story of her nightmares, with the characters recognizably warped out of shape and cliché after cliché... But that's not the worst part... She's turned into a Mary Sue.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: The wizarding world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling as do all characters from it, even if they are warped out of shape to an extent where you don't recognize ****them anymore.**

**This story is inspired by 'A Marauders' Cliché' by magic-spelldust, an amazing story which sadly only had 3 chapters before the author abandoned it. I have changed a lot, but that's where I got the idea.**

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_Back to the Marauders' Era_

_Prologue_

_~"It is a cliché that most clichés are true, but then, like most clichés, that cliché is untrue."~_

_-Stephen Fry_

I slammed my laptop shut in annoyance. Still fuming slightly, I stood up from my desk chair and went over to lie on my bed

_Canonical Sirius Black does not fall in love with a Slytherin OC, damn it! _I thought angrily. Why was the concept so hard to grasp for authors? Sirius Black, hater of all things remotely Slytherin, would not fall in love with some transfer student with the personality of a brick, just because she had boobs the size of melons.

I was getting too worked up, I knew it. It just annoyed me so much when authors warped canon without labeling the story as 'alternative universe'. Because Sirius falling for a Slytherin would definitely only happen in an alternative universe.

When I read Fanfiction, I wanted to read about the characters I knew and loved, not unrealistic and unrelatable original characters and the shadows of the characters from the books.

"Chloe?" My mum's voice drifted up from downstairs. "Can you get down here?"

I stood up slowly, glancing at my reflection in the mirror as I passed. Still the same dishwasher-blonde hair, dull grey eyes and pale skin.

Perhaps the reason I hated so-called Mary Sues – basically, characters without realistic flaws, too perfect to be real or relatable – was because I knew that the only way I'd be even remotely as beautiful or popular was in an alternative universe.

I did have friends, and I had been in a (not very serious) relationship before, but there was no way that guys would fall in love with me after a exchanging a few sentences, as was often the case in badly-written fanfiction.

I trudged down the stairs, pausing only to pull up the zipper on my over-sized sweater, and into the kitchen.

My mum was hurrying around the kitchen in a short black dress and stilettos, stirring the soup on the stove, making toast whilst simultaneously throwing objects into her open handbag on the counter like the super-mum she is.

Since my dad left us when I was seven, she'd been raising me alone, having a stressful job and been going on more dates than I'd probably have in the rest of my life. She also looked amazing, with golden-blonde hair and baby blue eyes. I had no idea why I got stuck with my dull features – I blamed my dad.

"I made soup and toast, I'll be back before two! Be good and behave!" She said, giving me a quick kiss and rushing out.

"Aren't being good and behaving the same thing?" I called after her.

"Yeah, whatever, do both!" She shouted from the hallway. "Love you!" I heard the front door bang shut.

I turned the stove off and poured myself some soup. Snatching the warm toast from the toaster, I plodded back into my room.

Grabbing my laptop, I placed the soup and toast on my desk and let myself fall back into my chair.

Except, I missed it.

I landed with a crash on the floor, my head banging into the metal wheels of my desk chair, my laptop smashing to the ground next to me.

Then everything went black.


	2. Completely, entirely clichéd

_Back to the Marauders' Era_

_Chapter One_

_Completely, entirely clichéd_

_~"A cliché is a truth one doesn't believe"~_

_-Bernard Taper_

When I woke up, I didn't open my eyes for a moment. My head was throbbing, and I was feeling strange – but I couldn't tell why.

I lay on the floor for a while before raising my hand to feel for a bruise, or worse, a wound on my head. Surprisingly, there was nothing. My hair felt different, though. It felt soft and smooth, unlike its usual course texture.

After a minute, I sat up. For some reason, this was a lot easier to do than I was used to; it was like I had suddenly grown muscles.

I opened my eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the harsh light. Then I nearly choked on my own saliva.

I lying on a concrete floor, with people walking at a fast pace around me. I started breathing faster, adrenalin pulsing through my veins. What had happened? What was going on? Where was I?

I wondered why nobody stopped to help. I was a girl lying on the floor, and they all were just walking past, completely ignoring my presence.

My mind desperately tried to think of a way to justify the situation I was in, but each scenario was as unrealistic as the next. _I was out cold until my mum came back and then she called the ambulance, and I fell out… No, wait…_

I tried standing up. Was I at… King's Cross? I could recognize it from the Harry Potter movie. I was in London?

_Okay, I'm dreaming. This is all a dream. _I told myself.

I heard the hooting of an owl. I spun around, only to see a breathtakingly handsome teenage boy with dark hair, pale, flawless skin and dark eyes. The black hair was a tad greasy, but it suited him, somehow.

He caught me staring at him, and I felt my face grow warm.

"Hello," he said politely.

"Er – hi." I stammered. I couldn't focus with someone as handsome as him standing in front of me.

"I'm Severus Snape." He introduced himself when I didn't say anything.

I nearly started choking again. "Excuse me?" I asked supporting myself on his trolley which was loaded with several leather trunks and... an owl?

"Er, I'm Severus Snape. And you are…?" He trailed off unsurely.

"Wait, like in Harry Potter?" I asked, still coming to terms with the fact that this handsome guy was named after a Harry Potter character.

"Um, excuse me?" He asked, the confusion evident on his face.

"You know… Harry Potter? The book and movie series…?" I trailed off when he looked at me blankly.

"What's a movie?" He asked.

_Okay. What the hell is going on. _I was starting to panic. I was no longer at home, I was apparently in London, and a freakishly handsome guy named 'Severus Snape' that has an owl doesn't know what a movie is?!

The only thing that consoled me was that I couldn't be in an alternative dimension where Severus Snape was alive: He was never this handsome, that's for sure.

_It's just a dream. Just a dream. _But why did it all seem so real?

I took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry, but can you tell me what's going on?"

"Uh, well, we're at King's Cross, on our way to Hogwarts…" He raised an eyebrow.

My stomach dropped. _Hogwarts? Okay, what the actual hell was going on here?_

The only conclusion I could draw was that this was, in fact, all a dream. I had hit my head, and my brain was coming up with this illusionary dream-like story. _I might as well go along with it… _I thought.

"Oh, alright." I said, like that explained everything.

"I've never seen you around here before, where are you from?" he asked, starting to walk. I followed him.

"I'm a transfer student from America." I said automatically. _Well, that was weird._

He nodded understandingly. I scoffed mentally – like transfer students were a regular occurrence at Hogwarts.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Oceane-Elenore Duquette" I said without thinking. "But call me Oceane." _What's going on? And what kind of a name is that?_

"That's a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth.

At first I thought he was making fun of me. _Beautiful? Me? Pah_. I bashfully looked at the floor, my face warming up.

Then I saw two ginormous boobs on my chest. They were humongous. I literally couldn't see past them to the floor, let alone my feet.

I whipped my head up. I was getting more and more confused.

"Alright. I trust you know how to get onto the platform?" he asked, putting a hand on my lower back.

I wanted to jump away – no boy had ever touched me like that before, let alone a complete stranger – but, for some reason, I just giggled in a melodic way and tucked my soft hair behind my ears. "Yes…" I said, and, before I knew what I was doing, I was running towards the brick wall.

_What am I doing? _I shouted to myself in my mind, but my body wouldn't listen. I just kept running straight at the brick wall, unable to stop. I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for the impact.

It never came. I opened my eyes, and found I was actually on Platform 9 ¾. I stood, mesmerized, taking in the scene in front of me.

I don't know how long I would have stood there if it wasn't for the Snape-guy appearing behind me.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured into my ear, causing me to start.

"Yeah…" I whispered.

He stood there for a moment, before asking, "So, why did you decide to come to Hogwarts?"

Once again, I talked automatically, with words I hadn't thought of in my mind coming out of my mouth. "My dad and I live a… special lifestyle. The schools in America wouldn't accept me. Professor Dumbledore made an exception."

He nodded, but before he could reply, some other voices interrupted.

"Oi! Snivellus! Keep your greasy hands to yourself!" Someone shouted.

I rubbed my eyes wearily. This was too much for me to process. When I opened them, I saw three boys standing in front of me.

I had thought the Snape in my dream was too handsome to be real, but he came nowhere close to these guys. They were all tall, tanned and toned, with brilliant white teeth and friendly smiles; not to mention their muscles, obviously visible through their T-shirts. They looked better than anybody I had ever seen before; it was kind of scary, to be honest.

_Just a dream. Just a dream. In my dream, I'm in the marauders' era, my favourite Harry Potter time, and these are the marauders. Just a dream._

I guessed the one on the right was Sirius in my dream, he had impossibly silver eyes with blue patterns in them, amazingly soft looking black hair that suited him perfectly, and high, elegant cheekbones.

The one in the middle had stylish glasses (except, if my dream was supposed to be in the marauders era, it was unrealistic, seeing as the fashion was different back then…), windswept looking brown hair and friendly hazel eyes.

The third one, presumably Remus Lupin, had sandy blonde hair with blue eyes and a kind smile.

I soaked my eyes on them, fully aware that, once I woke up, I would probably never meet people as handsome as them again. Like, ever. They were beyond super-model handsome, more like absolutely, unnaturally, impossibly handsome. The absolute ideal of what teenage boys should look like.

"Yeah, back off, Snivelly!" James Potter said.

Snape curled his lip into a sneer. "And what gives you permission to decide who I may talk to, and to whom I may not?"

"She's coming with us." Sirius said firmly, taking my hand and leading me away from my only 'friend' so far. I gave him an apologetic smile over my shoulder, feeling bad about how rudely my favourite characters were behaving.

"Thanks for saving me…" I said automatically. _Saving me from what? We were having a friendly conversation._

"You're welcome." Sirius replied, smirking at me. _I bet them saving me had something to do with my humongous pair of boobs._

We boarded the train, and I noticed a fair few male students giving me looks that made me feel very uncomfortable. This dream was strangely life-like, and I usually had very odd and random dreams that made no sense whatsoever. Subtly, I pinched myself. Nothing - I could feel it (it hurt), and I didn't wake up.

_What is going on here?_

Then it hit me. _Clichés. Unnaturally handsome guys. Huge boobs and all guys hitting on me._

I was in a clichéd, badly written Fanfiction.


	3. Bad Fanfiction of the Worst Degree

**Warning: Mild swearing ahead. There will probably not be much after this chapter, but it seemed necessary.**

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_Back to the Marauders' Era_

_Chapter Two_

_Bad Fanfiction of the Worst Degree_

_~"Clichés can be quite fun. That's how they got to be clichés."~_

_-Alan Bennett_

The realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. I was actually in a story. A Fanfiction. One of the ones I had read and laughed at.

_No. No. No._

This was bad. This was very bad. How was this even possible? In fact, it was completely impossible! And yet, it all made sense.

_Shit._

How was I going to get out? I needed to get back to my mum! My friends! My home! My nice, imperfect body! It might have flaws, but it was my own. What if I could never get out? But I didn't want this!

When I thought about it, the automatic replies from before made sense now. The author had been scripting my replies; I was just a character.

_Oh my gosh. Oh my fucking goodness, what the crap hell shit am I going to do?!_

Beside me, the three marauders were cracking lame jokes like I wasn't having a complete internal meltdown. I wanted to yell at them, to shake them until they told me how to get out of here, how to get home, but the author seemed to have other plans for me.

"I don't think you introduced yourself." I said with another melodic giggle, even though I knew perfectly well who they were.

I internally winced at my voice, except… it wasn't my voice. I hadn't noticed so far, mostly because I hadn't been paying attention, but it was higher pitched than my real voice. It sounded slightly melodic, like I always sang what I said. _Urgh. Who even wants to sound like that?_

"I'm Sirius Black." Sirius introduced himself. He gave me a knee-weakening smile that I couldn't bring myself to return.

"I'm James Potter, and that's Remus Lupin." James said pointing at himself and Remus. I almost considered myself lucky that the author was controlling me, as otherwise I would probably have collapsed and started bawling like a three-year-old.

_Wait a moment._

The author was controlling me! I could no longer decide what I was going to say, or do! If I hadn't been panicking before, I certainly was now. I would have begun hyperventilating, but, as I had realised, I had no control over my movements.

As we continued walking down the narrow corridor of the train, peering into the compartments and looking for somewhere to sit, the small part of my mind that wasn't completely panicking decided to explore my new predicament. Now, given something to focus on other than my current situation, I calmed down for a moment (although I didn't doubt that I would be panicking again later).

_So, what did you do during the summer? _I formulated the thought clearly in my mind and desperately tried to get the words out. However, my mouth wasn't cooperating, and I continued smiling a stupid, little smile. I felt like screaming. Next, I desperately tried to move my hand. To my surprise, my hand lifted and stroked my soft, silky hair, just as I had wanted. I narrowed my eyes, and it surprised me that I could do that, as well. However, none of the marauders seemed to notice that I was no longer paying any attention to their dim-witted banter that the author had come up with.

Finally, I had something to concentrate on other than the fact that I was… _No. _I forced myself to not think about my situation, in case I fell back into panic-mode.

I stroked my chin thoughtfully, my body still cooperating. Then, I tried to move my hand to scratch my bum. Nope, didn't work. However, when I tried to move my fingers, they all seemed to function correctly.

_Hm. Interesting._

It seemed that as long as I didn't do anything that interfered with the plot of the author, I could move my body as I wished. However, I could not do anything that specifically went against the plan of the author, such as walk away from the boys.

I was jolted back into reality when the boys stopped suddenly. In my own body, I would probably have (mortifyingly) crashed into them had they stopped at such short notice. Now, however, I gracefully came to a halt behind them.

_How I wish I was back in my clumsy, flawed body._

It seemed the boys had found a compartment for us to sit in. It was empty, with only a red-headed girl (who I guessed was Lily Evans) sitting in it and reading.

She was pretty, but not as unnaturally beautiful as the four people I had met so far. In fact, I had noticed that – except the marauders (minus Peter, who had yet to make an appearance) and Snape – everybody we had come across so far was a little above average in appearance, but not too much so. The marauders' were the only ones so freakishly good looking, and, to a slightly lesser degree, Snape.

Once again, I was jolted out of my thoughts when Lily noticed that she was no longer alone and looked up at us.

"What do you want?" She asked, sneering slightly.

"Well, Lilyflower-" James started.

"Don't call me that." She interrupted.

"There aren't any other free compartments, so it looks like you'll have to put up with us for now." He finished with a wink.

_Huh. That wasn't even so bad. _I thought, having expected the awkward flirting that usually occurred between Lily and James in bad stories.

"Your eyes are as beautiful as the stars." He said, sliding into the seat beside her.

_Oh, there it is. _I winced, but nobody seemed to notice. It was quiet for a moment after we all sat down. Sirius looked suspiciously like he was eyeing my chest, Remus had taken out his own book and begun to read and James was running a hand through his unnaturally perfect hair.

_Wait a moment, that isn't right. Harry inherited his hair from James, meaning that it's supposed to be messy and uncontrollable._

I wondered why such small aspects of stories were bothering me, when the story obviously had such major flaws, but I supposed that I was like that when I read fanfiction at home on my computer; the littlest of things always annoyed me… I felt myself choke up again at the thought of my home and I could feel my eyes prickling.

"Who are you?" Lily suddenly asked, noticing me for the first time.

"Oceane-Elenore Duquette." I replied automatically, in my unnatural, melodic voice and with an equally as irritating laugh. _Urgh. What kind of a name is that even?_

She raised her eyebrows. "That's a mouthful…"

"You can call me Oceane." I said quickly.

"That's such a beautiful name…" Sirius murmured, his impossible-in-reality silver eyes staring into mine intently.

"Uh, thanks." I replied awkwardly, but he didn't seem to notice my fumble. I was confused for a moment, why hadn't the author plotted my reaction? The one I had given had been completely myself; I had never been good at accepting compliments (mainly because I rarely received them, and, therefore, didn't have much practice).

"Can I speak to you for a second?" Remus asked me quietly, his yellow eyes staring intently at me.

_Hang on a minute, he had blue eyes a moment ago!_

I tried to remember back to the moment when I had met the marauders to start with and I was pretty certain that his eyes had been blue. _Author indecisiveness. _I thought with a mental scoff. _Always a sign of a badly-written story._

Remembering his question, I nodded and followed him out of the compartment.

"I just wanted to say…" He leaned closer. "_I know_…."

"Uh, know what?" I asked. I literally had no clue what he was talking about.

"About your… condition." He whispered.

"I… Er… You'll have to elaborate." I finally said, wondering why the author hadn't stepped in yet.

"You are a half-vampire!"

_No freaking way. What? WHAT?_

"Oh. That." I replied stupidly. Where were the automatic author-replies when I needed them?

_So apparently I'm a half-vampire now. This is just great. Not._

"It's just that I know what you're going through… I'm a werewolf, you see."

I felt like banging my head against the wall. _Why on earth would he admit that to some random girl he just met? Why? It makes no sense whatsoever. Zero, zilch, nip, nada. _I repeated the last part in my head a couple of times in order to refrain from losing my sanity.

"I'm so glad someone knows what it's like!" I gushed after a moment. _Yes, gushed_. The author had obviously decided to reappear and give me a couple of clichéd responses. _Fantastic._

"I know. I'm also so glad you're here." He said. He led me back into the compartment, giving me a quick hug (which was fairly awkward and uncomfortable due to my _humongous _boobs, but he didn't seem to notice).

"So, what deep conversations did you have?" James asked, winking at Remus suggestively. I would have blushed, but instead I just giggled melodically. Thanks, author.

"Oh, nothing much." Remus said, smiling at me, a friendly gesture that I returned.

Lily turned to me. "So, what house do you think you'll be in?" She asked.

A second realization came crashing down on me. I was actually going to Hogwarts. I was going to learn magic, even if I was a Mary Sue. For that one purpose, it was good, as Mary Sues were usually abnormally gifted at anything they tried, something which worked in my favor during lessons. For the first time since my arrival, I felt happy. In fact, I felt positively giddy at the prospect of finally living the dream of every Harry Potter fan (myself included) and attending Hogwarts.

"Oh, I don't mind." I heard myself say.

"She'll be in Gryffindor, of course." Sirius said, casually slinging an arm around my shoulders.

I gave one of my infamous (for me, at least) melodic giggles and smiled at him.

"If it means I can be with you," I breathed, staring into his impossibly silver eyes. _Eugh. Yuck. I cannot believe I just said that. Is the author trying to strip every shred of my dignity?_

"That would be the best possible version of reality I can imagine." Sirius murmured.

_Is that supposed to be poetic? I really hope not…_

He looked at me intensely, stroking a lock of my soft hair out of my face.

I was suddenly insanely aware of everybody else in the compartment. I mean, how awkward was this whole situation? From the corner of my eye, however, I could see that everybody seemed to be minding their own business, not at all aware of this entire exchange.

Even so, I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this whole situation. I gave him a smile (I wasn't sure if I had forced myself to do it, or the author) and turned back to the others.

"So, Oceane, what's your favourite subject?" Lily asked me, her green eyes boring into mine.

_Honestly, what is it with all these deep, intense looks? Does the author have some sort of look-fetish? Does that even exist?_

"I love Potions," I found myself saying, "But personally, I favor all classes."

She nodded, looking significantly friendlier. "I like potions, too. Have you ever tried to brew a Halligran healing concoction?" she asked me, her eyes sparkling slightly.

"No, what's that?" I asked, completely myself speaking. It was honestly refreshing.

"It's a sort of modified version of the normal healing potion, because, by adding more peppermint to it, you can intensify it by a lot!" she told me.

Despite having absolutely no idea what she was talking about, I was starting to really enjoy this conversation.

"Really? That sounds fascinating!" I said.

"And it really works. I love modifying potions so that their power increases or their effect changes, and that's what I'm working on now."

I had just opened my mouth to reply when James cut across what I had been about to say.

"Alright, enough talk about boring stuff." He began, causing my heart to drop. The first conversation that I had actually been enjoying had been put to an abrupt stop. "We need to plan our first marauder prank of the year!" he finished.

_Psh. Like they'd be stupid enough to discuss a prank with Lily in the same compartment. Anyway, which year is this? Because she's either prefect, which would make them dumb to talk about it, or… If it's seventh year, James and Lily should be in the prefect's compartment, having their first meeting as head boy and girl! In fact, Lily and Remus should be there as prefects, even if it's not seventh year yet!_

As if he had read my mind, James continued gleefully. "And, because it's seventh year, it has to be brilliant! It's our last year here, after all."

_So the author chose to disregard the head boy/head girl bit. Alright, creative licence, whatever. _My inner rant was cut off by Sirius clapping excitedly. Even his hands looked unrealistically perfect.

"So, as the marauders, it has to be spectacular!"

Suddenly, a thought struck me. "Hang on a moment," I was startled for a moment by my ability to speak out loud. "Where's Peter?"

Three unrealistically handsome faces stared at me, confusion etched into them.

"Who?" Sirius asked carefully.

"Peter. You know? Peter Pettigrew? Wormtail? The fourth member of your group?" I said, starting to get impatient by their clueless looks.

"Um." James looked lost. "I don't really know what you're talking about. We don't know anybody called Peter."

I resisted the urge to groan in despair. So this was one of _those _stories. I couldn't stand it when authors simply chose to completely disregard Peter. Although I hated what he became as much as anyone, he was still part of their group whilst they were in school, and an important aspect of the marauder's era.

The boys seemed to have already forgotten about our conversation from half a minute ago, and they went back to planning a 'legendary' prank.

"I vote we slime Snivellus!" James said loudly.

Lily stood up so suddenly her book fell to the floor with a _thunk. _"JAMES POTTER!" She screeched. I resisted covering my ears with my hands (I probably wouldn't have been able to even if I had tried, thanks to the author's control over my body). "I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!" She yelled with equal volume. "You… You're such a prat. I can't believe I thought you had changed." And with that, she turned and stormed off, slamming the compartment door behind her with a bang.

_Hang on a moment. She thought he had changed? But he acted like a prat the entire time we've been here. This makes no sense._

Then again, when did fanfiction of the lesser quality ever make sense?

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**To clarify****: In case you're wondering, whenever Chloe can speak as herself (without automatic answers) in a conversation, is when the author is too lazy to write dialogue, and only writes something like: ****_Lily started talking to Oceane about potions, when James interrupted… _****I hope everybody kind of understands how the whole her-decision/author's-decision thing works.**

**Please leave me a review? They really motivate me to write.**


	4. Looks like a Model, Dumb as a Brick

_Back to the Marauders' Era_

_Chapter Three:_

_Appearance of a model, personality of a brick_

~"Let's have some new clichés."~

-Samuel Goldwyn

After Lily's 'little' outburst, James had started to mope for a couple of minutes ("How can she not like me? I because so mature for her, and I love her!" _Snort. Yah, right. Mature. Totes._) before the group went back to planning their 'epic' prank.

"Sliming Snivelly isn't an option then?" Sirius asked.

James shook his head, suddenly, his whole, extremely handsome (_no, I hadn't gotten used to it, yet_) face lit up. "I've got it."

And with that, the three of them leaned together and started whispering among themselves like a bunch of second-graders. I resisted the urge to snort.

For the first minute of their whispering and – yes, no joke – giggling, I had thought the whole situation highly amusing. Now, after three minutes of it, it was getting old fast. In fact, it was becoming rather irritating.

Suddenly, a loudspeaker sounded throughout the train.

_"__Students, we will be arriving in half an hour. Please change into your school robes."_

The first thing that struck me was the blatant disregard of canon (honestly, they didn't have anyone _announce _their arrival), the second was how unrealistically short the journey had been. That had been, what, half an hour? The trip was supposed to last for at least several hours!

"Um, hey, Oceane," James said, shuffling in his seat. "Uh, you'll need to leave for a couple of moments, so we can get change."

My face filled with a blush that the author sent me (honestly, why would I be embarrassed by his perfectly acceptable request?) and my melodic voice filled the compartment. "Oh, of course." I started leaving, when I paused and said, "I just realised! I don't have any robes!"

"That's no problem," Remus said, smiling warmly at me. "You can pick some up next to the changing rooms further down the train!"

I smiled gratefully and left, feeling distinctly uncomfortable as I walked down the train, not unaware of the looks the male students were giving me, nor of their nudging and loud whispers.

"_Damn, look at that hot new girl!"_

_"__I'd love to see what she's hiding under those clothes."_

_"__What do you think it would take for me to get into her pants?"_

I kept my head lowered as I pretended to be oblivious to their crude remarks. I was very thankful when I finally arrived at the "changing room" (which, naturally, didn't exist in canon).

There was one of each uniform piece left, and I grabbed each of them and made my way into a changing cubicle. It had a crimson curtain, a small black bench, and three large mirrors; similar to something one might find in a clothes shop.

For the first time, I saw myself and I felt my jaw drop. _Damn, I really was hot. Unrealistically so._

I had black hair that was perfectly styled (even if it definitely didn't look like anything from the 70's). It was smooth and soft, falling in glossy waves until my lower back. My face was beautiful, I had dark eyes with sinfully long lashes and immaculate eyebrows; pale, flawless skin and a perfect nose; full, dark pink lips that looked utterly kissable; teeth white and completely straight. My body looked like that of a playboy model – _after _Photoshop. My hips were wide, my butt round and tight, my waist was small and my stomach flat. My boobs… Well, as I had already determined, they were big. Very. Not even D cup, I was further down the alphabet… Not only were they huge in size, they seemed to defy gravity by not drooping or sagging in the least. My legs were long and shapely, my arms toned and even my hands seemed unrealistically beautiful.

In short, I was the 'perfect' woman. I was what the media promoted women to look like, that unattainable perfection.

I couldn't blame all those boys for wanting to get into my pants, I was their hormonal teenage fantasy come true.

And I hated it.

Although I, like anyone, felt insecure sometimes, or sometimes wished that I could trade bodies with someone that had a better figure, now that I actually had it, I couldn't help but wish with my whole heart that I was back in my own body. I didn't want every guy I came across to stare at me like I was a piece of meat, I didn't want to be objectified. I didn't want to never be sure whether a guy was actually being nice, or just wanting to sleep with me.

I stared at my reflection for another second dully, when I noticed something. Peering closer at myself, I realised that my eyes had changed colour. Before, they had been a dark brown, almost black, now they were a bluish-grey, like the sky on a cloudy day.

_Oh, hell no._

I silently prayed that it was my imagination, that the author hadn't played into the cliché that the half-vampire Mary-Sue had eyes that changed colour with her mood, but before my own eyes (heh), my eyes changed into a dark purple.

With a quiet groan, I rolled my now-violet eyes at my reflection. Deciding to stop examining myself, I pulled off my dark blue V-neck sweater, only for my big boobs to spring free. Being held back by only a flimsy, black lace bra (_Black lace? Honestly?_), I was almost intimidated by them. Which, quite frankly, was ridiculous. Whoever heard of someone being intimidated by _their own _breasts?

For some reason I was suddenly uncomfortable staring at myself nearly-naked (on the top half, at least), and I quickly pulled on the crisp white uniform shirt. My discomfort probably had something to do with the fact that I definitely did not in the least feel like this was my body, meaning that I felt sort of like a pervert for checking out these (my own?) breasts. I quickly buttoned up the shirt, only to find that the top two buttons wouldn't close over my enormous boobs. _Perfect. Brilliant. Just brilliant._

Now, a significant (and certainly not modest) portion of my extremely-large-perfectly-proportioned-gravity-defying breasts were revealed through the neckline of my shirt. I gave a couple more tugs to the shirt, willing it to close, to no avail.

The author seemed insistent that I walked around Hogwarts looking like the school-prostitute, I decided, especially when I discovered that not only was my skirt much too short (it barely covered my perfect butt, and I was willing to bet that if I would lean over, my underwear – a not-so-modest lacy black thong – would be revealed. This was honestly just perfect), but my school shoes were six-inch stilettoes.

I carefully tied my neutral black school tie and looked around for a jumper, only to find none. I also appeared to be missing my school robes, so apparently I was required to walk around in my nearly see-through school shirt. I honestly just felt like crying.

_Why am I even upset? It's not like whatever I do here effects my real life, and it's not even like people are checking _me _out, they're checking out Oceane. Why do I even care?_

However upset I was with my predicament, the thought comforted me. I was still extremely uncomfortable with the idea of walking around teenage guys (and grown men) dressed as I was, but I forced myself to push all negative thoughts to one side. Negativity and insecurity wasn't going to get me anywhere, and it definitely wasn't going to get me home.

_I'm going home to mum somehow._ I forced myself to think. _And then I'll laugh about this and chalk it down as a fun experience._

I refused to even consider that I might be stuck here, then I would probably lose all will to carry on, and that wouldn't help me at all.

After my motivational pep-talk to myself, I didn't leave myself time to think. I flung open the curtain and strode out of the dressing room, head held high.

Completely ignoring the suggestive looks and not-very-subtle staring I was receiving from the guys and the shocked looks I was receiving from the girls, I blocked out all the whispers and walked back to the compartment.

I supposed I could thank the author that _Oceane _could walk perfectly in six-inch heels, but I was already so angry with whoever was writing this stupid story that I didn't dwell on the fact too long.

The marauders looked up and started gawking at me as I walked in. I gave them a winning smile, determined not to let anything bring me down.

"Wow. You look…" Sirius trailed his eyes up and down my body several times, his eyes lingering on my legs and chest (the latter fairly longer).

"You look bloody brilliant." James said, his eyes bulging out of his head. "You know, if I wasn't so in love with Evans…" He said in a low voice, trailing off.

"How can you walk in those shoes?" Remus asked mildly, eying my stilettoes. A relieved giggle filtered out and I felt the urge to hug him. As the only person who had kept his eyes to himself, I really was beginning to like the quiet boy, even if he was portrayed terribly out-of-character.

"Who are you? And did you steal a first year's robe? And your mum's shoes?" A nasal voice sounded from behind me. I privately agreed with whoever was obviously going to turn into my arch-enemy, but I turned around all the same.

"My name is Oceane-Elenore Duquette, nice to meet you." I replied politely.

The girl was significantly shorter than I was in my six-inch shoes, and she had a short, straight, blonde bob which framed and emphasised her long, pointy face and sharp features. Her upturned nose and squinty, grey eyes made it painfully obvious that the author had gone out of their way to make it clear that this was a 'bad' character; as, unlike the flawless appearance of everybody else, she would definitely not be described as pretty. Also, the green of her Slytherin robes made it fairly obvious that she was the antagonist of the story.

On either side of her, she was flanked by two people. One was a girl with equally sleek blonde hair, which went to her waist. She was also sharp-featured, with a thin mouth and a pointy nose. On the other side was a large, well built, _hunky _guy, who was also very handsome (although not as handsome as the marauders and Snape) with brown hair and dark eyes, and an arrogant smirk.

"Was your mum high when she named you?" She sneered, and I almost laughed at her accurate statement. It was a shame that our characters were going to be enemies, I could picture myself getting along with this girl. As long as she kept her insults witty, accurate and amusing, that is.

"My mum is dead." I replied quietly, the words one again put into my mouth by the author.

"Shame. So sorry." She said, not sounding sorry in the least. "You're from America?"

I found myself nodding. "I transferred."

"I heard." Suddenly, she stopped examining her fingernails, and looked me directly into the eye (_again with the looks! What is it with this author and deep looks?_), then said in an arrogant but firm voice, "Listen, Ocean Sea-Fish or whatever your name is," I repressed an amused snort. "I don't care who you are, but stay out of my way. I rule the school, and I don't care whether you look like a low-class stripper, but you're not taking that away from me. My name's Brittany, and don't you forget it."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the corridor, staring after her with an open mouth, completely shocked at how somebody could have such an attitude. Or, at least, Oceane was shocked. I, personally, had found the entire exchange very amusing, and it was actually my most stimulating conversation yet. _How sad is that?_

"Don't worry about her," Sirius murmured into my ear, which would have caused me to jump, had the author not been controlling my movements. Instead, I automatically turned around and looked him deep in the eye (this eye-look-thingie was getting old really fast).

"I'm not worried," I found myself saying, my melodic voice determined (but honestly, how anyone could take someone seriously that had a voice that made her sound like she was singing all the time was beyond me). "I'll show her. She doesn't rule the school, she's just an annoying bitch!"

Had I been in-control of my body, I probably wouldn't have been able to resist bursting out laughing at the sound of the innocent, singing-voice of a prostitute look-alike cursing. Honestly, this whole situation was so messed up that I was probably going mad.

"You're right." Sirius said, his silver eyes not leaving my who-knows-what-colour-they-were-at-the-moment eyes. "You're ten times the person she is, you show her!"

The (_cough_) intimate (_cough_) moment was 'ruined' by the loudspeaker announcer, who declared that we would be arriving at school soon.

I couldn't help but feel excitement bubble up inside of me, I was actually going to Hogwarts! I would be living my dream! Although I hadn't imagined attending dressed like (as Brittany so eloquently put it) a low-class stripper, with a bunch of characters that I knew but resembled nothing like what they were supposed to be like; it was nonetheless my dream, and I was determined not to let it be ruined, no matter what life (or, the author) threw my way. I also refused to think of my mum or my friends at home.

_Nope, not thinking of them. Focus of the thought of attending Hogwarts. Learning magic. I'm going to learn magic!_

I kept this thought in mind as I bore more suggestive looks and staring, and I didn't let anything bring me down, even as a pair of thirteen year old boys nudged each other as they stared at my huge _assets, _laughing like crazy all the while. I didn't let it bring me down after it happened for the fifth time (not the same boys, mind you. Different ones, of different ages, and houses. _Yay for me…_), or the time after that. I even didn't let it disconcert me that I caught the marauders (my supposed 'friends', even if we had only just met) staring at my bum as I walked in front of them.

_"__Are those REAL?" _I heard a fifteen-year old looking witch ask her friends, staring at my body, then at her own, decidedly smaller, chest. Then they all burst out in giggles.

I tuned out the whispers once again as the castle came into view. I gasped, it was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined. For several minutes I stared at it, soaking it all in. _It's really here. And it's spectacular._

"Hello, again," I heard someone say from next to me, I turned and saw Severus Snape greeting me politely.

"Hi," I said with a smile, before I heard the marauders protest from behind me.

"Go away, Snivelly, no need to get your greasy paws all over her."

"Yeah, she's not going to give you a second glance, Snivellus, give up and get lost."

Snape, to his credit, just rolled his eyes and started talking to me. "So, are you nervous about the sorting?" He asked.

"Well, slightly." I confessed, surprised that I was fully in control of my replies. I supposed that the author had skimmed over the dialogue ('_Oceane and Snape chatted on their way to the castle'__, or some such rot_), something which I was very grateful for. I really needed to have a proper conversation with someone or else I was going to lose my mind.

"Don't worry, it's not nearly as scary as it seems. You can chose what house you go in, you know."

_Why would Snape know this? _I ignored the blatant disregard of canon and smiled at him, ignoring the attacks the marauders were still making at Snape from behind my back.

"So, what house are you thinking of?"

"Gryffindor." I replied firmly. A flicker of disappointment shone in Snape's eyes for a moment, but then it was gone.

"I see. No doubt there?" He asked.

I gave him another smile and shook my head; although I liked Snape (in this story) more than I liked anyone else so far (perhaps excluding Remus), I wasn't willing to go into Slytherin because of that. Not that I thought for a second that the author would allow that.

"Bugger off, Snivelly," James said, shoving him away. Snape gave me a half-wave (which I returned with a sympathetic smile), and left to his Slytherin friends.

"Thank you for getting rid of him," I told James in my melodic voice, the author putting the words in my mouth. "He's such a pain."

I would've frowned, but couldn't. Snape had so far been far more pleasant to me than any of the others (Remus excluded), who had made me quite a bit uncomfortable with their leering and Sirius' blatant flirting and intense-looks, not to mention the prank-whisper-giggle incident.

"Well, that's Snivelly for you." James said with a shrug. "So-"

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by Sirius, who snaked an arm around my lower back. This, naturally, made me extremely uncomfortable, but the author made sure I merely giggled and smiled at him.

"So, beautiful, you looking forward to term beginning?"

"Ooh, yes!" I squealed, the sound positively painful to my ears, but it didn't seem to bother the two boys in the least. "I'm super excited!"

Suddenly, we arrived at the castle entrance, which was odd, as a moment ago it had been quite far away. I chose to ignore the fact that the author had left out the thesteral-pulled carriages, deciding not to worry myself more than necessary.

"First years?" Professor McGonagall (who looked exactly like Maggie Smith from the films, obviously the author had described her that way) called from the doors. A group of small kids shuffled towards her, when she spotted me. Instead of looking shocked by my clothing (as she should have), she gave me a warm smile (something which was completely out of character for her, even in the fanfiction universe) and beckoned me over.

"You'll be sorted with the first years, I do hope that's alright," She told me, in a distinctly un-McGonagall voice, sounding more girlish and… gushy. _Blegh._

"Yes, ma'am. That's fine." I heard myself say politely, following her to trail after the first years. I honestly felt much more comfortable with the eleven-year-old children, as – being younger than hormones and attraction to boobs and butts – they didn't stare or make comments, except for a little blonde girl who had her hair in pigtails.

"You are _really _pretty," she told me with her young, innocent voice, looking up at me with big eyes. "Like, _really _pretty. I wish I was as pretty as you."

Since the author hadn't planned a reaction for me except a smile, I knelt down so that I was at the same height as her. "You are really pretty as well. I wish I was as pretty as you." I said, meaning it completely.

"Really?" She asked me, her big eyes wide.

"Completely." I told her firmly, with a smile, which she returned hesitantly.

McGonagall returned, and called for everyone to follow her. We all dutifully shuffled after her, my heals clanking on the stone floor. She flung open the doors to the great hall, and I took a moment to marvel at its beauty. _Wow._

I focused on how amazing it looked so that I wouldn't have to pay heed to all the whispers and staring that were undoubtable starting again. Instead, I gazed up at the enchanted ceiling, mesmerised by it.

_"__Oceane-Elenore Duquette" _McGonagall called from the front of the hall. I decided not to think about how she was supposed to read surnames first, or how the author had completely skipped the hat's song, and made my way to the stool, my heels clanking obnoxiously loudly in the otherwise silent hall.

I perched myself onto the stool, positioning myself so that nobody might accidentally catch a glimpse up my precariously short skirt, and felt McGonagall place the hat on my head.

_"__Huh? What in the world?!" _The hat gave a confused shout as soon as it was placed on my head, but I was aware that only I could hear it. _"You – what?"_

Then it struck me. The hat knew who I truly was, and about my situation.

_Oh my gosh._

**Note:**** I hope it's not too fast-paced, things will calm down a little later, but I want to portray how disoriented and confused Chloe (ha – I bet most of you didn't remember her real name!) is feeling. Also, there ****_will _****be a storyline, as well as several sub-plots, don't worry. The 'real' story is beginning, soon, so far, the chapters have been a sort of introduction to the situation, the OOC characters and Chloe/Oceane (I hope the changing room scene wasn't too long or tedious:D). Also, Chloe will have more in-control moments as the story goes on, as (in bad stories) the author tends to skip a lot more time as the story goes on. Love to you all xo**


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